I look at myself in the mirror and feel ashamed.
When I rose from the sea, I felt joyful, oh, so joyful. And now I feel like an old woman.
I was carried to Olympus by Zephyrus, the West Wind. When I arrived, I could feel the other goddesses' hatred. I could have changed that. But no, I flirted.
I chose Hephaestus. I knew myself well enough that I could not choose one man. But also his eyes made me want to cry...tears truly came. He looked like there was no hope. I could change that. I cannot do many things, but I could make an unloved god happy...for a while.
He draped me with adornments, and I will not lie. I was pleased, very pleased. But when I looked up one morn, I saw Ares. I saw him in a different light. His tanned skin looked so appealing, and when I saw Hephaestus, all pity I felt for him faded. My heart belonged to Ares, and Ares only.
And the same happened with all the other gods. I figured that if I could not have the goddesses' friendship, I would have the gods' love. How wrong I was!
I had a son, Eros. From me, oh, he inherited such horrid qualities! The ability to make love, and even worse, make mortal's lives miserable.
I know many of my fellow gods think mortals are toys. But they aren't, oh, they aren't! They are better than many of my fellow gods, but not better than dear Hephaestus. No one is better than Hephaestus. He may love me, but all trust he has for me has faded away a long time ago as I betrayed him time and time again.
I am love itself, so is it right to be ashamed of love?
It is. If one uses love to one's own pleasure, stepping on others, it is very wrong.
I am beauty as well, but so many times I want to cast off this guise, and be myself! But I cannot bring myself to do it.
The thing that I now see in Hephaestus is more powerful than beauty. He may not trust me, but he loves me. And I know if I appear before him as a cobbled old woman, he would love me. And that is the sweetest thing I have known. He used to be blind to the ways of the world, but not anymore. Not anymore, I changed that.
If I were not a goddess, indeed I would burn myself. I would ask Zeus to give me the same punishment he gave Prometheus, yet I know what the answer will be. All because of my looks. Why are all the gods so intent on beauty? Even Hermes is affected by it. But what I love about Hephaestus is that he is strangely immune.
After thousands and thousands and thousands of years, I have come to my senses.
I care not for Ares, or any of the gods, except my husband. I have been a good wife, and a good goddess. I am not worshipped anymore, oh no. None of us are. Mortals think of me as a bitch, I know. I know I was. But is it safe to assume I have changed?
I am no longer the flirty goddess I once was. I am not feared and worshipped any longer. The time of the Olympian gods is over. We must live our lives without worship.
Why, oh why was I so terrible when I was worshipped?
Perhaps it is good our time is over. Otherwise, perhaps I would have stayed the same.
I stare at myself in the mirror and stare at the innermost part of me. It is pure now...but never was before.
I am love. I am beauty. I am Aphrodite.
When I rose from the sea, I felt joyful, oh, so joyful. And now I feel like an old woman.
I was carried to Olympus by Zephyrus, the West Wind. When I arrived, I could feel the other goddesses' hatred. I could have changed that. But no, I flirted.
I chose Hephaestus. I knew myself well enough that I could not choose one man. But also his eyes made me want to cry...tears truly came. He looked like there was no hope. I could change that. I cannot do many things, but I could make an unloved god happy...for a while.
He draped me with adornments, and I will not lie. I was pleased, very pleased. But when I looked up one morn, I saw Ares. I saw him in a different light. His tanned skin looked so appealing, and when I saw Hephaestus, all pity I felt for him faded. My heart belonged to Ares, and Ares only.
And the same happened with all the other gods. I figured that if I could not have the goddesses' friendship, I would have the gods' love. How wrong I was!
I had a son, Eros. From me, oh, he inherited such horrid qualities! The ability to make love, and even worse, make mortal's lives miserable.
I know many of my fellow gods think mortals are toys. But they aren't, oh, they aren't! They are better than many of my fellow gods, but not better than dear Hephaestus. No one is better than Hephaestus. He may love me, but all trust he has for me has faded away a long time ago as I betrayed him time and time again.
I am love itself, so is it right to be ashamed of love?
It is. If one uses love to one's own pleasure, stepping on others, it is very wrong.
I am beauty as well, but so many times I want to cast off this guise, and be myself! But I cannot bring myself to do it.
The thing that I now see in Hephaestus is more powerful than beauty. He may not trust me, but he loves me. And I know if I appear before him as a cobbled old woman, he would love me. And that is the sweetest thing I have known. He used to be blind to the ways of the world, but not anymore. Not anymore, I changed that.
If I were not a goddess, indeed I would burn myself. I would ask Zeus to give me the same punishment he gave Prometheus, yet I know what the answer will be. All because of my looks. Why are all the gods so intent on beauty? Even Hermes is affected by it. But what I love about Hephaestus is that he is strangely immune.
After thousands and thousands and thousands of years, I have come to my senses.
I care not for Ares, or any of the gods, except my husband. I have been a good wife, and a good goddess. I am not worshipped anymore, oh no. None of us are. Mortals think of me as a bitch, I know. I know I was. But is it safe to assume I have changed?
I am no longer the flirty goddess I once was. I am not feared and worshipped any longer. The time of the Olympian gods is over. We must live our lives without worship.
Why, oh why was I so terrible when I was worshipped?
Perhaps it is good our time is over. Otherwise, perhaps I would have stayed the same.
I stare at myself in the mirror and stare at the innermost part of me. It is pure now...but never was before.
I am love. I am beauty. I am Aphrodite.